A Burning Blaze
by TheLightningThief42
Summary: The Hunger Games have reopened. Flourence Mellark must enter the Games. She won't let the Capitol get away with doing it without rebelling and making it their worst choice ever, though. May the odds be ever in everyone's favor. I don't own THG trilogy.
1. Part one, A Blaze

**Part 1- The Blaze.**

I gingerly take a sip of the green tea I know clutch, scared of the day that has come. Why today? Why had they decided to reopen The Hunger Games? I had no idea. Chances are, I am chosen to go into the grody arena and fight in a battle to the death, against other poor innocent twelve-to-eighteen year olds.

I sit the tea cup down on the clear glassy table in front of me, thoughts that contain blood running through my mind. I slowly-and causiously-make my way up to the stairs and in front of my room. I grasp the fragile door knob and open the door to my cold room. It was usually warm and sunny, but today, it seemed only dark and gloomy. It was if the Capitol had especially did this for me.

I know, during the reaping, I will be chosen. They most likely have already rigged the bowl to make sure all the papers say, 'Flourence Mellark', in a beautiful cursive written by the very own Sylvester Snow, grandson of the president my mother once loathed.

I make my way, moving swiftly, across the room to my dresser, full of dresses my mother wore in her Hunger Games interviews, opening ceremonies, and victory tour, and other usual outfits. Though most people from here won't call it usual. I slip on a fitting red shirt that brings out my startling blue eyes with a black Dolman pullover and red fleece scarf over it, faded boot-cut jeans, brown steel-toe lace up boots, and my chocolate-colored hair back in a fish tail braid.

"This will do." I tell myself. Unlike most people in the new rebuilt District Twelve, I have expensive clothes. The poor parents who have to pray their kiids don't get reaped and cry if they do, the only thing they look foward to are my dresses. Only that. Nothing else but seeing me in my dress, hoping I will be the one reaped and not their child.

Yes, it is hard to believe Distrist Twelve people are that shallow. It's same with the kids. All exept me, my little brother, and that poor boy, Damion Talley. I am the wealthiest child in Panem, all of because my mother and father are victors, meaning they have twice as money as the others. Yet I am not shallow. Or rude. Or vain.

I have learned manners. And battle stradegies. I usually use a knife, but I don't throw. I get up close and slash,_ Knives are for only the most skilled warriors out there, _my mother says. I believe her. To get up closed, you have to run to the persoon, duck their shots from far away. Biggest chance, you'll get shot.

I know to sit up straight, cut the food into pieces, my right leg on the other, and how to set a table properly and how to use and handle forks and spoons properly. I don't slurp, I don't sloutch, I don't burp. I don't. I don't. I don't. The three 'don'ts', that's what my father calls them. _You are an eighteen year old daughter of the most important victors in Panem, you must use your manners_.

_Yes sir._

I walk out of my room, and hear soft snoring. My family is still asleep, so I decide to cook breakfast. Bacon, eggs, toast, and muffins that only my family would be able to afford in District Twelve. I open the pantry. No bacon. I sigh and head out to the butcher shop. It just opened and people are filing in. Not much though, for most people cannot afford it unless special occasions such as birthdays or weddings.

I am waiting patiently second in line, meanwhile the lady in front of me is having trouble.

"Sorry, ma'am," the butcher, John, says. "You seem to be missing some money. I'm sorry, but I got a whole line, including the richest child in Panem waitin' behind you." I smile a bit, knowing the man only cared that I am in line.

"Oh, dear," The lady says., searching frantically in her now empty wallet. "I must have dropped it. I'm so-" She was interrupted by me slapping down a stack of coins on the counter. She stares at them intently.

"John," I say. "Do you realize how depressed this lady must be? And seeing by how much money you got in your hand and what she was going to buy, she's only missing a dime. Is it that important to you? This lady, by the way she's dressed up, she seems to be going to a wedding. And we all know it isn't gonna last that long since she has to get ready for the reaping. Like you said, there's so much people in line, and she's only missing a dime, and you have to hold it all up just for one small coin?"

That's mighty dissapointing, for her and all the other fellows. No need to be rude, for any of this though. And lady," I turn to the woman. "You take every bit of that exept the dime and go buy a beautiful dress." She stares at me for a moment, then a slight smile plays on her lips.

"Thankyou." She says as she puts all but one coin in her pocket and takes the food. I walk up to the counter and order the bacon.

"You're very brave there, Flourence." A familiar voice says as I turn around. I look up and froze, staring intently at his sea green pearly eyes. His honey blonde hair glows where the one window seemed to be completely focused on him. I am now staring at Damion Talley, the boy I stood up for five years ago. Memories flooded back.

It was my first day at school. I was late, of course, and I walked into my hall, only to find a tall buff girl with short stringy brown hair and bloody red eyes beating up Damion. I walked up to her, pushed Damion back, and got in her face and said,

"You pick on someone your own size you fat oaf." I only then noticed that she had a knife in her hands. Her eyes seemed to fire with anger as she slashed at me. I ducked just in time, and used a maneuver I learned from my mother and disarmed her. I put the knife to her kneck.

"I am not someone you want to mess with." I said and I put the knife on the ground. I turned and started walking until she tackled me. I should have known the fight wasn't over. She jabbed the knife into my side and I cried out in pain, silent kind of. Not enough for anyone but us to hear.

"You're going to die you little-Umph!" That last part was because Damion pulled her by the jacket collar and threw her at the lockers. He held a hand out to me. I took it, pain still causing me to shake. He put my arm around his shoulders and led me into the classroom, mumbling,

"Sorry." Over and over again. I tried to smile, but it was hard. Once we got in, the class turned to us, and the girls freaked out, the guys just gasped, and the teacher shrieked and ran to us.

"Oh my, what happened?" She gasped. Damion told her the story, and her eyes went wide. She lead me to a chair.

"This isn't really what I thought the first day would be. What's your name?" She asked, bringing out a small first aid kit.

"Flourence." I said. She bit her lip as she tried to figure out how to put the gauz on.

"Let me." I said, straining to reach the medicine.

"No, it's okay. I know more than you, anyway."

"No you don't, ma'am. Let me give you instructions."

"Alright." She sighed, knowing she had been defeated. "Maybe we should call your parents."

"Okay." I said. I didn't really want anyone to know who my parents were, because I wanted people to like me for who I am. Not who my parents are. I told her the instructions, as she seemed surprised I knew so much. Meanwhile, Damion was trying to calm every one down. After she was done, every one seemed to have calmed down.

She handed me the phone, and I dialed the number. It ringed a couple times, then I heard my dad say, "Hello?" I smiled. I love hearing his voice.

"Hey dad, um...there's been this...accident, I guess you could say, at school, and I think you need to pick me up." I heard shuffling, assuming I was now on speaker phone, because I heard mom say,

"An accident that bad to take you home? What happened?"

"It's fine. I'll explain later. But can you please just hurry?"

"Okay!" they hung up, and I noticed everyone was staring at me. I smiled. After a few minutes, the very own Katniss and Peeta Mellark ran into the door. Everyone gasped and the teacher stood up straight.

"Katniss and Peeta Mellark! What a wonderful-" She was cut off by mom mom screaming and running towards me.

"Flourence!" She cried out. Dad jerked his head to me and gasped and ran to me. They took my hands in theirs as everyone stared in shock.

"That's Katniss and Peeta Mellarks-" One kid started.

"Daughter?" One finished.

"No way!" Another said in disbelief. I hated the attention. The day went by, and then the next day, then week, then month, then years, people praise me for who's daughter I am. When I walk by, the girls straighten their posture and fix their hair and wave as if we're best friends. The guys would make their best smile and show the occasional flirt.

Only one person doesn't do that. And that person is Damion. He just smiles and nods, and it makes me so happy to not be praised like that, I have to fight the urge to smile a huge smile all the way home.

So here I am, looking at Damion. We usually never speak unless needed. The line goes on, people whispering and frowning like on every reaping day. But just right here, right where Damion is standning, you can't help but feel happy. How it's so light, how he's always smiling, being his bright self.

"Um...hi." I say, being a bit embarrased by my stuttering. He laughs his good hearty laugh.

"Surprised to be talking to me? I know, I've just been very anxious. You don't mind, do you? Or are you going to call your dad and tell him to beat me up?" He says it so playfully, I can't help but grin from ear-to-ear.

"No, it's okay. I wouldn't want to have to save your butt again, now would I?"

"Good one," he says. "But really, it's usually very rare to see someone just prance around, slapping loads of money on tables. Though I shouldn't be surprised, you being what they call, 'the wealthiest kid in all of Panem'. I just wanted to say it was very nice what you did, and your predictions, wow!"

I can't help but smile at how he complimented me.

"Thankyou." Is all I say.

"You're welcome. Well, gotta go get ready for the reaping! Can't wait to see that pretty dress of yours." He smiles and walks away. I sigh, and I walk home. As I do, I look around at the rebuilt District Twelve. I remember when I was young my face glued to the glass backyard door, watching big machines taking away the rubbage and dirt and replacing it with buildings and such. I would ask my mom what they were doing and she would just smile, pick me up, and take me to my room.

I quietly open the door and begin cooking the food. I am almost done when my six year old brother, Reuban, comes down the stairs, still in his pajamas.

"Goodmorning." I say as he sits down at the kitchen table. He smiles forcely.

"Not likely." He says. Then he sniffs the air and smiles. "Nevermind." I laugh and put a muffin on the table in front of him.

"I'm going to get mom and dad. Don't eat all of the food, okay?" He just waves me away with his hand and takes a huge bite of his muffin. I walk up stairs and knock on my parents' door. I hear shuffling and dad opens the door.

"I made breakfast." I say. His mouth moves to the side of his face.

"Okay. We'll be there in a minute." He yawns and closes the bedroom door. I walk back downstairs and finish setting the table. My parents come down soon, and we try to make idol chit chat, but no one seems to be in the mood. After breakfast, I wait in my room until I have to get ready for the reaping.

I put on a violet asymetrical-hem charmeuse dress that goes down to my knees, violet ballet flats, black solid tights, and I keep my fishtail braid on, but I tie it with a black ribbon. I apply a little make-up-mascara, blush, and a bit lip gloss. Good enough. I hurry back downstairs and wait or my brother, who comes down dressed in a white fitting shirt and one of those rock star type vests, black skinny jeans, converse, and his blonde hair in a fohawk, his freckles and stormy gray eyes popping out from his olive tan.

"Well, don't you look handsome?" I say. His face turns pink and mom and dad come downstairs, dressed in their ornamental no one is smiling.

"Let's go." They say. We head out and get into the car, the only car in District twelve. I think about what lay ahead. The rules have changed for the Hunger Games. Now, both people from from one district can win, assuming they both stay alive. And for this Quarter Quell, the arena will be completely dark. So I know I have to find the glasses my parents told me about, so I can see.

But they said we'll be in an arena that has already been used. I can't help but think, all of the arenas were destroyed! Sure, they reopened the the Hunger Games, but they couldn't have just rebuilt it perfectly, take the ruins and put them back in the correct spot. It's impossible! Well, not for the Capitol, I guess.

I walk out of the car and into the crowd of people, who look longingly at our decorative clothes and shiny car. It makes me feel guilty-having all this money, and not giving a dime to all of these starving people. I lower my head as I give hugs to my parents and brother and walk to my line. I look around, seeing girls smile at me, and so do guys from all ages.

Damion waves at me, and I wave back as other boys glare at him of jealousy. Yes, jealousy. Not only am I the wealthiest child in Panem, but I'm also what the boys call, 'the hottest girl in District Twelve'. It disgusts me. Sure, alot of the boys here are handsome, but like I said before, they only like me because how I'm wealthy and supposedly important.

The mayor comes to the podium on the stage and says the very boring announcements about the Hunger Games, and I see a boy mocking him and I can't help but giggle silently. Mayor tells us about how Panem is what used to be called 'North America' and how it was torn into thirteen districts, and how District Twelve used to be a place called the appalacia. Then the tribut escort walks up to the stage on her high-heels, making the _clappity-clap_ sound.

"Welcome to the very special one hundreth Hunger Games!" Announces Cecelia Garner, Effie Trinket Garner's daughter. She was wearing a pink-red wig, along with a matching dress and everything else. It's so loud it hurts my ears.

"And now let's announce the tributes! Ladies first!" She walks over to the female glass bowl, runs her hand through it just for the tension, then pulls out a name and announces out loud,

"Flourence Mellark!"


	2. The reaping,the goodbyes,and the pin

I knew it would be me. I knew it so much I almost laugh as everyone turns their heads to me. I've practiced walking properly up to the stage during the reaping. I do so. When I get there, I smile forcefully. I hate the Capitol even more now.

"And now the boy tribute." Cecelia doesn't sound any enthusiastic any more. She fishes her hand in the bowl and pulls out a card.

"Damion Talley." She says. My jaw drops and my eyes go wide as I turn my head to Damion, who looks frozen in time. He regains his focus and stiffly walks up to the stage, standing next to me. I could see that he's fighting tears right now. Cecelia walks up to the stage and I can only think, why didn't anyone volunteer for me? That just proves I have no real friends. I look at the frozen crowd, and see each one of them look at me dreadfully.

I can feel all eyes on me, along with the camera. I search the crowd for my family, and see the bravest people in District Twelve were crying. Especially my brother, who's face was red and eyes the same color. It makes me want to cry, but I regain my composure and fix my posture as Cecelia announces the mentors,

"Katniss and Peeta Mellark." No. Please no! It can't be my parents who lead me into my possible death. I pray god will keep me safe and hope this is just a dream. A horrible, twisted dream. But it's not, because I see my parents walk up to the stage, wiping the tears from their eyes. Oh, Cecelia, the odds are definately _not_ in my favor.

"Shake hands." She orders. I turn to Damion and grasp his hand, shaking it slightly. He leans in, and says,

"The odds are in our favor, now aren't they?" I don't know if he's being sarcastic or serious so I only nod and turn back to the crowd as Cecelia dissmisses us to our cells. Inside, is a beautiful room with plush chairs and flowers, but no windows. The door closes, and I stare at it for a moment, then sit down. After a minute, the door opens and a family comes in. I stand up, and they hold their hands out.

"Hello," I say as I shake their hands.

"Hi," the boy says. He is handsome, with curly brown hair, sparkly tirquoise eyes, well built body, and olive tan. He seems oddly familiar and probably older than me. "I'm Pierce Chapman and this is my family," he waves his hand to a happy looking family. "While we were in the crowd, we noticed that your little brother wouldn't have anywhere to stay." I didn't even notice, truthfully.

"We wanted to offer to take care of him until you and/or your parents get back. We have the food, money, and shelter. We just need your permission."

"I approve, but I'm not the one you need to ask. That's my parents."

"Yes, we know. But they're beyond our reach-somewhere we can't go. We were going to ask them, and since your parents aren't here, we thought your permission would be good enough."

"Well...if you can find him, then I think it would be great. Should I pay you, or-"

"No, no," the mom says. "It's our...treat, I guess you could call it."

"Oh, okay. Thank you." They all smile and leave. I can't help but feel grateful from their offer. I wonder where I saw the boy, maybe school, or the woods? I think I've seen him in the woods. I shrug and sit down. More people come in, and then I am ordered out of the cell, only to be blinded by cameras.

Black spots almost block my line of vision, but I can make out Damion sitting there, tears threatening to escape his eyes, but he doesn't let them take over. I sit down on the bench, trying to get the cameras away. Finally, Cecelia escorts us to the train. I walk in, seeing a room with plush chairs, a big tv, and some kind of fragrance. Lemons? No. Vanilla? No. I smell roses. Roses and...blood?

I almost leave the train in fear. Roses and blood. That has Snow written all over it. I try to leave, but guards are at the door, avoxes, I recognize, and they don't let me out. I give up and walk forward, but I don't sit or talk or breath as much as I can. I want nothing to do with the Capitol. Damion and Cecelia look at me funny, but I just stand there with my arms crossed on my chest. Just then Mom and Dad come in and make the same disgusted face as I do.

"Can someone please change the smell in here?" Mom says a little harshly. One of the avoxes runs to a door and comes out with a spray. She uses it and I guess the smell. Cinamon, maybe. I give all my willpower to sit down, and when I do, I want to get back up. I immediately hate this place, and I need to leave. Cecelia scribbles and erases down on her clip board, then she looks up at us then two avoxes.

"Will you please escort them to their rooms?" She says. One avox, a girl with silky brown hair up in a bun, a maid outfit, and dazzling purple eyes looks at me as if saying, 'Come with me'. She walks down the hallway and I hurry up to follow her. She leads me to a room at the far end of the hallway, and opens the door.

Inside, is a silk queen-sized bed, a door that leads to some other room, probably the bathroom, velvet couches, a bookshelf, a closet full of decorative clothes, and a side table. I walk into the room and sit down on the comfortable bed. The avox leaves.

"Thank you!" I call out to her, though she probably didn't hear me. I walk to my new bed. But before I get there, the train lurches forward, making me fall, luckily, on the bed. I sigh and sit there for a moment, until Cecelia comes in and tells me I have an hour before dinner. So I shed my clothes and let them lay on the floor, then I walk into the bathroom and take a hot shower. As the water pours down on me, all I can feel is weight coming off my shoulders. Showers always seem to relax me.

I leave the shower and dry myself, then dress in a lightning blue spaghetti strap shirt, mini-flare boot-cut jeans, and socks. I put a clip in my hair, and since I have time to kill, I search the shelf for a book. I pick out a book called, 'Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Battle of the Labyrinth'. I was at book four, meaning I read all the other ones, and I was at a certain page. I flip through the book and start reading.

About ten minutes later, Mom comes in with something cupped in her hand.

"Hey, sweetie," she says. I smile, as if telling her hey and to go on. She sighs. "Well, I knew some day you would be chosen to enter the Games, ever since Snow became president. Peeta and I discussed it, and we think you should have this." She held out her hand, and inside was a pin of a golden bird, only hanging by it's wings. This was her Mockingjay pin.

"This isn't-"

"Yes, Flourence, it is. It's my pin, and I want you to have it." I stare at it and hold out my hand cautiously. She drops it in my palm. I can't believe it. The Mockingjay pin, my mom's most precious memory, is now mine. She kisses my forehead and says, "May the blaze still burn bright." She then flees the room, leaving me to gape at the door.

I don't read. I don't blink. I don't move. I just stare at the pin, still mystified by what Mom said. _May the blaze still burn bright._ She had said only a few minutes ago. What does it mean? The quote rings in my head, over and over again, as if some force is rewiring my brain to think only that. _May the blaze still burn bright. May the blaze still burn bright._ I want to get it out of my head, but at the same time I don't.

Cecelia comes in and sees me staring at the pin. "Oh, is it a bad time?" She says in her sqeaky tone. "N-no. It's fine," I stutter. "I'll be there in a minute." She nods and leaves the room. I slowly stand up and clip the pin to the left side of my chest and walk out of my room. The curls in my hair bounce as I walk through the train cars and I finally find the dining room. I see everyone is there but me.

They, all exept Mom, eye me suspiciously. I sit next to Damion. Just then the avoxes burst through the door with our food: bacon-wrapped filet mignon with rosemary sauce, creamy scalloped potatoes, bundled-up asparagus, bread rolls, and cherry cobbler with chocolate drizzled over it. I can see Damion lick his lips. I sit up straight, put my right leg over my left, and eat the food. Damion sees what I'm doing and follows the example, but he doesn't cross his legs.

After dinner, we watch the recaps of the reapings. Some tributes stick out to the others-a beautiful girl with golden blonde hair, chocolate brown eyes, an olive tan, beautiful features, and a good figure. Her name is Paris from District 2, of course. A small boy named Terrance with big blue eyes, red hair, and pale skin from District seven. A tall, buff guy with unruly black hair and scary gray eyes that seem to stare into my soul from District 4.

Then, we watch the recaps for my district. I look as brave as ever, my eyes glowing and seeming to spark electricity, my hair draped over my straight back and my head held high. The camera moves from me to my family to Damion, who looks less brave but still more confident than I thought.

After the recaps, I go into my room and read. I'm not paying attention, though. Soon enough, I can't take it anymore and I throw the book across the room and bury my head between my knees. I can't think, knowing I will possibly die in a matter of weeks. I should win, I've practiced all my life, even though it's probably illegal. Still-I'll have to watch other innocent people die right in front of my eyes, and if I win, it will never be over. It will haunt me forever. The victory tour, then I or my parents have to mentor some other kid into their possible death.

And it still won't be over.

I undress, and don't bother putting on pajamas. I lust lay under the covers in my underwear, trying my best to sleep. I finally do, and when it happens, I only think one thing.

_May the blaze still burn bright._


	3. The Capitol,the skills,and the stylist

Gray light shows through the window. I don't want to get up, but I know I have to. So I slowly swing my legs off the bed and hop up on my feet. I change into a magenta undershirt with a white cardigan over it, white skinny jeans, socks, and my curly hair up in a ponytail with a pink ribbon. I also put the Mockingjay pin on and walk outside just as Damion is.

"Good morning." He says. I smile and run to catch up with him.

"What's up?" I say. He smiles warmly and chuckles.

"I'm terrified." He says. I laugh reassuringly and pat his back.

"Hey, it's okay, I can train you." He just smiles as if accepting my offer. We don't really know where we're walking, but we end up in a train car with a couple couches, a big window, and other furnishings. We just sit there silently, enjoying the quiet, until we are engulfed in darkness.

"What the-?"I hear Damion say from somewhere on the other side of the room. "This is probably the tunnel that leads us into the Capitol. " I say. "Oh." I hear him mutter. A minute later the room is once again filled with brightness, and I run up to the window, Damion not far behind. We come into a place full of cars and buildings and polluting factories; even one of the buildings are beyond what the whole District Twelve minus the Victors Village could afford all together. People in strange, weird, innapropriate, and festive outfits crowd the train with their cameras ready. We just entered the Capitol.

Just being here makes me want to throw up and commit suicide. People take pictures as I forcefully put on my best smile and wave to the crowd. Damion just looks at me funny. I roll my eyes and say, "C'mon, Damion. You want us to have sponsors, don't you?" He takes this the way I wanted and follows what I do.

I see people notice the pin on my chest. Their eyes go wide and all of a sudden they jerk their heads to their cameras and move their fingers rapidly, probably zooming in on the pin. After a while, the crowd dies down and I head to the train/car/dining room and find that I'm early for breakfast. Damion and I sit down and wait for everyone else to come in. When everyone is there, they come out with our breakfast: eggs, bacon, fruit, hot chocolate, and bread. I get the food and dip the bread in the hot chocolate.

It melts in my mouth and I can't help but make the 'mmm' sound. the mix of the bread and hot chocolate reminds me of my brother-sweet, different, and wonderful. It also reminds me of how much I miss Reuban, and I fight the tears that threaten to escape. Although I know he's safe, with a caring family and shelter and food, I can't help but feel sorry for him. He's away from his family for the first time, with strangers and probably food he isn't adapt to, meanwhile I'm in a train heading to possible death.

I am broken out of my thoughts by Dad saying, "So, Damion, do you have any skills?" Damion thinks for a minute then says,

"Not that I know of." I can't believe it. He has all of these skills, and when he needs them most, he says he doesn't have any?

"Are you kidding?" I say to know-one in particular. "Damion has alot of skills! He's the most skilled and strengthed fighter at our school!"

"Flourence-" He tries to protest, but I don't let him.

"You won't believe what he can do! His snares usually get him about five animals, even deer a day! I trade with him alot, my money for his food-"

"Flourence!" He tries again.

"He's awesome at throwing knives and can sneak up on his prey so quietly even the rabbits don't notice-"

"Flourence, that's enough!" He says. "Sure, I have some skills. But what about you, huh? You're, like, as good as a fighter as me! You only came in second because that one time you had a broken arm, and you still came close! You're the best at bow and arrows, and you sneak up even better and get up to your prey and kill them before they even notice! Your snares usually get you more than I can trade you, and you're practically the school nurse you're so good at it! God, why can't you mind your own business?"

He gets up and runs out of the train car, leaving me speechless to turn around and face the surprised adults. They stare at me.

"I...I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, Flourence," Cecelia says to me. "But maybe you should go apologize." I nod and stand up and walk around the train. I wait a while until I go to Damion's room. All he said about me was true. And what I said about him was true, too, but I didn't mean to upset him. I walk to Damion's train car and knock on the door.

I hear shuffling, and Damion opens the door, frowning madly. "What do you want?" He askes harshly. I recoil and say, "I-I just wanted to say I'm sorry." His expression softens and he says, "It's okay. I'm sorry, too. I just don't like it when people brag for me."

"I understand that now. Next time you'll have to warn me, okay?" He looks down, and clears his throught. "Okay." He says, and then he does something I don't expect. He hugs me. I tense at first of surprise, but eventually I wrap my arms around his waist and hug back. After a minute, he release me, his face blushing madly.

"Sorry." He repeats. I laugh. "Sorry?" I say. "That's the first hug I've had in a long time. Bye, Damion." I run to my train car and fall on the bed, smiling.

**Later...**

"OUCH!" I scream as my new prep team wax my completely naked body.

"Sorry!" Emerald, a woman with crimped rainbow-colored hair and a body filled with tatooes squeals. I grit my teeth and try not to yell at her. My eyebrows still sting from when they were shaved, as does everything else. I feel like a plucked chicken. They also fixed my nails and srubbed me clean, as if I already wasn't.

"Now let's get the stylist!" Says Selina, a woman with long frizzy blue hair, violet skin, and a crown on top of her head. They rush out of the room, and soon a woman with beautiful strawberry blonde wavy hair, electric blue eyes, sun-kissed skin, absolutely no make-up, beautiful features, and normal clothes-a green long-sleeve and skinny jeans-comes in.

"Hello," She says in a beautiful voice. "I'm your stylist, Italia." I am generally stunned. Most stylists would look almost as crazy as their prep team, but this woman just looks...normal. It reminds me of Cinna, my mom's old stylist.

"Hello." I say, fighting the urge to cover my chest. She walks to me and asks if I can spin around slowly. After I do, a look of satisfaction crosses her face.

"Well, Flourence, I think you have a good figure, beautiful hair, just the right skin tone-everything I need. I don't possibly know how I can make you look better." I smile thankfully.

"Thank you." I say. She smiles and walk toward a droor and brings me a robe to put on. I wrap it around my body. "Come with me." She says as she leads me to a room with marble floor, couches and tables. She sits on one couch and I sit in front of her. She presses a button, and the table beside my couch opens up, revealing my lunch-california rolls, rose-shaped pieces of watermelon, and chocolate cake.

"So," Italia starts. "Everyone knows who your parents are, right?" I nod. "So I thought maybe we should let everyone know that you're their daughter, Flourence Mellark, daughter of Katniss and Peeta Mellark. We're going to let them know, but not go too extreme, like your mother's old stylist did. No, I am not going to light you on fire, or give you a wedding dress that turns into a Mockingjay, I am just going to give the concept _of_ the pin."

I didn't understand, but I nod. We eat, her making idol chit-chat, and when we're finished, she guides me back to the room and fixes my hair, paints my nails, puts on my make-up, paints something on my face, and orders me to take off my robe, all while I have to keep my eyes closed. A minute later, weight reigns on my shoulders. Italia leads me to some other part of the room and orders me to open my eyes, and when I do, I gasp in amazement.

a strapless mermaid dress turning color from balck, to red, to orange, to gold, to yellow drapes over my body. on the black part shows a graphic picture of a Mockingjay. Peep-toe black pumps fit my feet perfectly. Painted on my face is the mockingjay pin and I have red eyeliner and orange eye shadow. My lips are cherry red. My hair is still brown, but on the inside it's honey blonde, in the very front my right bangs are red and has a single orange clip in the left side. I am transformed.

"Oh, Italia, thank you!" I give her a quick hug, get the pin and put it on, then she leads me outside, and I see Damion in a flaming tux. Not literally, though. It's black with flames on it, and it looks absolutely handsome. When everyone sees me, they stare in a statement of shock.

"Hello?" I say. Mom is the first one to regain her composure. She walks over to me, a huge grin playing on her face.

"Flourence, you look so beautiful!" She pulls me into a hug, and everyone else leaves their shock. "It's time to go! Hurry!" Cecelia squeals. Everyone walks out of the train except me and Damion. He walks to beside me, holds out his elbow and says,

"Shall we?" I chuckle and put my arm in the open space.

"We shall."


	4. the ceremonie,the thoughts,and the dream

We walk out of the train and into a tunnel and are lead to the chariot, which is black with rhinestones on it and the horses are the color of coal with red and orange dazzlers in their hairs and painted fiery patterns on their bodies. We are ordered onto the chariot and Damion looks about sick.

"Are you okay?" I ask sincerely. He gulps and says, "What if we fall off? What if the horses go wild? What if-"

"Damion, calm down. Nothing will happen if I have anything to do with it." He smiles, but I still see worry in his eyes, so I tighten my grip on his arm. I look around the tunnel, seeing the other chariots and tributes. District four has a chariot with waves and the horses have wings on them, I only think the reason for that is Poseidon, greek god of the sea, also made horses and pegasi. The tributes are wearing blue unitards with sea green, the same color as Damion's eyes, waves on them and rhinestones, and they hold tridents.

District seven's chariot is green and brown, the horses brown with white spots, and the tributes are trees, as usual. Damion's stylist, Amos, a man with curly brown hair and unnatural lime green eyes comes onto the chariot and tells us what to do-hold our heads high, feet only an inch apart, back straight, and wave to the crowd, and give them your best smile. _Smile to the Capitol idiots?_ I think. _The only way I'll do that is to make fun of what they wear._

But I manage to grin, only from my thinking. I know I need to give my best show, I really need sponsors, because I know at least some of them already hate me from my parents, which isn't good for Damion's and I's benefit. I tell Damion that, and that he should put on his best show, too, because it may be the only way to earn sponsors.

So he does his best to smile and he practices waving, and let me tell you, he's great at it. Though I still tell him that just because girls do it on TV, doesn't mean he has to wave like a pageant girl. We get a good laugh out of that, and he doesn't even have to try to make a handsome smile anymore. Finally, the District Twelve chariot comes out of the tunnel.

The crowd is in a shocked silence, and then they burst out cheering. I can see myself on the big screens in the Capitol, along with Damion, who's waving and making that charming smile of his, so I follow his example. I smile and wave, and they absolutely love it. We are thrown multiple roses, and Damion catches a stem in his mouth like they do in a dance I think called the tango. It makes me laugh, and everyone else laughs with me.

Damion stops waving a moment to take the rose from his mouth and give it to me, then he goes back to waving. It makes me so happy, I stand up on my tip-toes and kiss his cheek. The chariots line up in a circle in the square as I see President Snow giving his speech, turning every once in a while to glare at me, which I return, hoping it won't cost my life.

It gets dark, but the camera stays mostly on our chariot, and I earn scowls from other tributes, and they send a clear message, _You will be the first one I kill in the arena._ It almost makes me laugh, knowing I'll most likely be the one to win, other than the buff guy, Zander, from District Four. The boy from District Seven, Terrance, is too busy staring at our outfits in amazement, and a girl with glasses and pure black hair in a bun and braces doesn't even seem to care.

The opening ceremonie ends, and when we get back to the tunnel, we are engulfed in hugs. Everyone tells us we were great, and the prep team, being as dramatic as they were, are crying. We talk for a minute, and we are driven in a car to a large building. I immediately know this is the Training Center. We go inside and I am immersed in coldness. Everything is made of marble. Cecelia leads us to a large glass elevator and we go up to our District's floor. The speed is so fast I want to ride again.

I am broken apart by my parents, or mentors, as I now have to call them, and Damion, as Cecelia leads me to my quarters. Inside, is a king-sized plush bed, chairs, and many tables, a bookshelf, which I can't help but feel grateful for, a bathrrom with a shower and as soon as I step out on the mat, I am dried within seconds and my hair is untangled, a programmable closet, and a large book filled with many foods I just need to order on the phone and it is instantly delivered to me, alomg with any other needs.

I know I'm wealthy, but I've never had a more fancy room my whole life. I thank Cecelia and I go to the closet. I shed my dress and put it on a hanger, reminding myself to give it to Italia later. I put the mocking-jay pin and hair clip on a side table and go take a shower. The warm water feels much better than the cold building I will stay in for the next few days. I wash the paint off my face, or try to, but I figure out it won't. It's permanent, but the hair coloring isn't.

I step out and I am dry and my hair is untangled after two seconds. I go to the closet and pick out a fitting v-neck long-sleeve shirt, boot-cut jeans, and brown slide-on shoes. I put on my mocking-jay pin and my hair up in a ponytail and head to dinner. We eat, Cecelia bragging and telling how good of a job Italia and Amos did on the outfits. I don't listen to much of it, though.

I can only think about what lay ahead. The arena. An arena that supposedly was never destroyed. I know it's one of the arenas that my parents entered. This is the way Snow will find my weak spot. In an arena, still having the smell and marks of my parents' blood. And twenty-three other tributes there, too. They can find what I can't stand and use it against me easily. My parents thought the fight was over, when in reality, it has just begun.

So all this time, when I thought I would be the one to win along with some other tribute, I'm really going the be the first one to be killed in the blood bath. I guess I knew all along it would be me first. Snow is probably already ordering my casket, filling it with roses, and blood.

And what about my family? What will they do when I'm gone? Surely they will care, but they'll still be as rich as ever. As healthy as ever. But they'll cry and moarn over me, so I know I have to win for them, and for District Twelve. Then I'll be more wealthy than anybody in the world, even Snow. But that thought crosses my mind. I don't care about being wealthy. I only care about staying alive.

Staying alive for my future birthdays, one of which will be in the arena. Staying alive for my wedding. Staying alive to have children. To grow old and die at an old age. Though I don't know about that last one, if it will be the one I'm proud of. I always wanted to die a hero, not die as I grow old. Maybe the arena will be the opportunity to fufill my dream. No, not in the arena. I will be no hero if I die in there.

I want to make history. Die from saving another life. Die from leading an important war. Something like that. Just not in the arena or at an old age. It makes me more determined to win. I need to win. I have to to win. I _will_ win.

"Don't you think, Flourence?" Dad's bright voice breaks my thoughts. I look up alarmed and say, "Huh?"

"Don't you think President Snow's face was hilarious when you glared at him on camera?" Wait, they got that on camera? That's not good, if the president sees that on the recaps...

"I...I didn't really catch it. Sorry." He frowns a bit, then they burst out into their usual conversations, all except Damion. He tapped my shoulder.

"Hm?" I say. He looks at me, consern filling his face.

"Are you okay? You were in a seemingly other world the whole dinner until your father spoke to you." How come he noticed? I don't know why, but I take this the wrong way. I am so worried about the Games, and then he has to get in all my business.

"Well wouldn't you like to know, wouldn't you Damion? Hm? Why don't you just mind your own business?" I say. He frowns ans recoils from me.

"Well, sorry Flourence! Sorry for worrying about if you're okay!" He turns away, anger and hurt filled in his eyes. Something I can't stand. Did he really worry about me?

"I-I'm sorry, Damion. I'm just worried about the Games. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." He unstiffens a bit, but doesn't turn back to me. I sigh and say, "I'll tell you about it later." I turn and eat the food, but I glance back at Damion and see he's smiling. A new thought comes to my head. He's doing this to get into my head. To make me feel sorry for him, to help him win the Games, and then in the end, when only three of us are left and we're supposed to win together, he'll turn to and kill me.

"Why are you smiling?" I say, my voice like a snakes-scary, rude, and terrifying.

"No reason." He says, not breaking his smile. "Tell you later." We finish dinner and watch the recaps of the opening ceremonie, my dad fuming when he sees the kiss I gave Damion. I'm sure he has nothing against him, he just doesn't want his little girl to grow up. Well, I'll be turning nineteen in a week. A little too late for that.

I walk to my quarters and sit on the bed, reading a new book, _Out Of My Mind_. But I can't read. Instead, I go to the door of Damion's quarters and knock on it. After a moment, he answers, smiling.

"Yeah?" He asks. I move my hand in a come on gesture, and walk to the stair-case, not waiting to be followed, though I hear footsteps behing me. We enter a very, very small room and I open a square-shaped door. I walk out of the room and stand on the roof of the Training center. I go to the railing, and soon Damion joins me, taking in a breath.

"Wow," he says. "The view is amazing. How do you know this is here?" He turns to me, a look only he can make on his face. I look down at the Capitol smiling non-forcefully. I feel serene and happy here, nothing else.

"My parents used to come here all the time. Beautiful, isn't it? Come on, I'll show you the garden." I walk to the other side of the roof, all they way to a wonderful space full of Azellias, Primroses, sun flowers, Iris's, and many other beautiful plants. Damion stands beside me, and can only let out one word, "Wow." I smile even more. He takes my hand, taking me off track. I stare at our entwined fingers, and when he sits down, I can't help but join him.

"Damion," I say. "I hate this place."

"Why?"

"Because, it reminds me of my parents story. I haven't told anyone this, but I have dreams. Dreams of what my parents went through, and the night before the reaping I had a dream of my mom and dad sitting right here in this garden, my mom's head in my dad's lap, my dad fiddling with her hair," I smiled. "It was beautiful. I have dreams like that, peaceful and beautiful, then I have dreams, horrible dreams that come the next day, or longer.

I can't stand them. I thought, maybe if I tell someone, then they'd go away, but I know, they'll never, truly, leave. I thought, maybe, it was the tracker jacker venom in my dad. But these dreams, they are beyond that. These dreams won't go away, not like his venom did."

"Have you had any dreams since the Games?" He says.

"No."

"Then that's probably it. You can have all of those dreams unless you're in the domain of where the dreams happened."

"That can't possibly be-"

"True," he snorted. "I know. But there are alot of things you can't believe in The Hunger Games. Anything is possible here."

"Trust me, I know. I know more about the Games than anyone but the people who went into them themselves. I just wish they weren't real. That's what everyone wants. You know what I think at night? I think this can't be real. This is just another nightmare, my worst nightmare. People think I haven't gone into the Games yet. But in reality, I've lived it my whole life."

All he can repeat is, "Wow."

"Yeah, wow. And to think, I thought my brother had it hard."

"Is that what you were wondering about at dinner?"

"Partially, I guess. Mostly about my death in the arena."

"Really? You'll probably be the one to live, along with someone else like that guy from District Four."

"You don't know what I mean."

"What do you mean?" I look from the starry sky to him, take in a deep breath and say,

"If I can survive the blood bath, I'll tell you." And with that, I go inside and into my quarters. I order an avox to take the dress and shoes to Italia then change into a white silk night gown and lay down in bed. But no sleep comes. Instead I decide to cry. As much as I can I weep and bawl myself to sleep.

Only to have a terrible dream.


	5. The hate,the ally,and the story

They chased me with incredible speed. Speed that soon would overcome me. I am in an arena, and all of the other tributes are chasing me, including Damion. I heard an enormous, terrible laugh.

"Are you ready to die, Mellark?" It bellowed, laughing. It was Snow, the Snow my mom knew. I tried to scream, but I couldn't. I kept running, and I made the mistake of looking back, because just then, Damion threw his knife, and it hit my eye.

I layed on the ground, crying, and trying to keep the pain away.

"Your time has come, and soon it will be your parents who join you! Only, theirs will be worse. I wish you were there to see it, but I'm not that terrible."

"You are more than terrible! You're the one who needs to die, not me! Can't you see? That act of the berries wasn't fake, Snow! It was an act of love!" I was able to talk.

"Your parents love may be real, but they still won't get what they want! They'll die, as they were supposed to years ago!"

"Then why are you killing me?"

"Because you're their daughter, of course! You'll start more trouble than they have! You should just die now!"

"No! This is just a dream!"

"No, it's real! Die, little hero!"

"I won't!"

"That's what you think! WAKE UP FLOURENCE!" At that last sentence, his voice sounded like Damion's.

I woke with a start, Damion, my parents, and Cecelia sitting at my bed.

"Good morning..." Cecelia says.

"What happened?" I say.

"You had a bad dream." Dad says.

"Oh."

"Are you okay?" Mom says.

"Why not?"

"You were screaming and crying and slashing at the covers." Damion says.

"Oh, well I'm okay."

"That's great! Now get ready and we'll have breakfast!" Cecelia says, seeming alot happier than a minute ago.

"Okay, you don't have to wait for me, though."

"Nonsence," says Damion. "I'll wait. You guys don't have to, but I am."

"I'll wait too." Mom says.

"Me too." Dad says.

"You really don't-"

"Flourence," Damion interrupts me a little harshly. "Just get ready, and come to the dining room. You can't stop us from waiting."

"Fine." They leave the room, I get up and take a shower, then I see on my bed an outift. _Oh, great, _I think. _I'll be wearing a matching outfit with Damion. Woopee._ I put on the outfit-a red long-sleeved shirt, black skinny jeans, and combat boots. I clip the mocking-jay pin to my chest and put my hair in a ponytail sliding down my back and head to breakfast.

So Mom and Dad give us advice.

"Keep low on your skills, Damion. They don't know what you can do, and if they do, they can use it against you." Mom says. "And Flourence, they probably know what you can do, but keep low like Damion. You can do exactly one thing that you're really good at before the private session. Then show your skills."

"So do what Haymitch told you." I remark.

"Well, pretty much. But he's dead, so that doesn't really matter."

"It probably mattered to him."

"Just eat, Flourence." She su=ighs. I sip my orange juice and we eat the reast of the meal in silence. I notice Damion's out fit is different, though, and I can't help but feel good at that. He's wearing a button-up black shirt, jeans, and high tops.

I go back to my room and sit on the ground in front of the bed, my right kee propped up and my left leg laying straight on the ground, my head against the bed. I think for a minute, just about the training, What should I do? They broadcast them now liv on TV. It's a good thing, though. If we blow their minds, we probably get sponsors. I decide to use restling as the one I am really great at.

And then we have to go to training. Damion and I walk down the hall with Cecelia guiding us all the way to the training room. We get there, and notice that we're the last ones, but clearly no one cares. As the coach tells us what do do, I block her out and make her sound like a hummingbird. I look around to the tributes, recieving multiple glares. The girl with the glasses is listening very intently to the coach, the buff guy just glaring at everything he sees, the pretty girl winking at almost every boy, the little boy humming some happy tune.

Then we can go to the stations, and everyone goes to the most common ones. Damion stands next to me, and I point to the medicine station. He nods and we walk over there, the coach seeming glad that someone would actually come to this station. He teaches me a few things, and I teach him things, too, then the girl with the glasses comes to the station.

"Hey." I say to her. She looks up and nods, then goes back to her work. "Your name's Marie, right?" She doesn't look up or answer. I turn to Damion, who just shrugs.

"What's up with her?" I whisper.

"I don't know." He says. I sigh and go back to what I'm doing.

"It's Margaret, actually." She says, suddenly beside me. I smile and say, "Sorry." She smiles.

"Are you sorting those berries from poisonus to non-poisonus?" She asks.

"Mhm." I say. "Why?"

"Those berries," She points to some reddish-purple popcorn shaped berries. "They're poisonus. Nightlock. Your mom and dad almost ate them at their first Hunger Games, those little berries started the rebellion."

"I-I honestly didn't know that."

"Yeh, you shouldn't. They're rare, the Capitol tried to get rid of them after your parents act. But they'll probably still be in the arena. You never know."

"_I_ should know."

"Possibly, I guess. But still, it's been years, although people are still rebbelling against the Capitol. Speaking of which..." She rolled up her sleeve, and inside it was...a bracelet with something that looks just like the mocking-jay pin on it.

"No way." I say, and she just nods and rolls down her sleeve.

"Allies?" She holds out her hand. I nod and shake her hand.

"Allies."

**The next day...**

"I'm just dying to go to the wrestling station." I say.

"Me too." Damion says.

"Let's go." We run to the wrestling station, where two boys just finished. There are exactly no girls there except me. The coach calls to the next group, and Damion and I get on the mat. The coach looks unsure.

"Are you sure you want to, Flourence?" He asks.

"I know what I'm doing." I say, and Zander makes a remark about how girls can't restle, and I tell him to shut up and go play with those dummies, they seem to look just like him. Everyone hears it, and they laugh. Because everyone from their station wants to watch.

"Are you okay with fighting a boy?" Damion asks. I gave him a look that says, 'Yes, now shut up'. Damion and I shake hands and start the fight.

He runs at me, but I move and grab his arm. I bend down and trip him with my leg. He falls on the floor, but does a backwards somersault and lands on his feet.

"Good job at the somersault." I say, deflecting his hit and grabbing his fist, then flipping him, only for him to land on his feet. By now everyone is whatching. The fight goes on and on until finally I pin him down and I win. I stand up and offer my hand. He takes it and hops up on his feet.

"Good job." He says. "I didn't know a girl could fight like that, even you."

"I know, I've gotten better, didn't I?"

"Yeah." We turned to everyone else, who look at us in wide-eyed shock.

At lunch, eveyone asks us to be our allies. We are offered to the 'Career' table, but we decline it and sit with Margaret, Terrance, a crippled girl named Edith, a very tall seventeen-year-old guy named Ryder, and a small african-american boy with brown hair and brown eyes named Isaak that reminds me of Rue, my moms old friend, sitting next to Terrance. They're giggling to each other about how Flourence Mellark is at their table and then beg me to tell them a story about my parents. So I do.

"Do you want to know why my mom calls my dad, 'they boy with the bread'?" The nod eagerly. "Well, it was raining that one day. My mom was eleven, and she had just left the market trying to sell her little sister, Prim's, baby clothes. Of course, no one bought them, because they could not afford children at that time. My mom and her family were very, very poor. Mom was the only one who kept her family alive, since her dad was gone, which made her mom ill of sadness, and her sister was only seven years old.

She used to go hunting with her dad, which provided her family food. But after his mine accident, she didn't go back. She dumped the clothes in a mudd puddle, because she was exausted and she knew no one would buy those clothes, anyway. She was walking past the town, where all the resteraunts were, and she thought that maybe she could get something from the garbage cans."

"Why the garbage cans?" Terrance asks.

"Because, like I said, her family was very poor. Unfourtunately, the garbage cans had just been emptied. She stood in front of the bakery, the smeel of the bread making her dizzy. She walked to their trash can, hoping there might be something. Then she heard someone yell at her. A woman stood in the doorway, the owner, yelling at her to go away.

She put the lid back on and walked away, but noticed a boy with golden blond hair and sky blue eyes peering over the woman's shoulders, looking at her."

"Peeta!" The boys say in ignition.

"Shhh! Don't be a spoiler!" Says Edith.

"Anyway, she went to the back of the bakery and sat down in the mud against a tree and watched the bakery's pig run around, sqealing in the mud. After a while, she heard the woman yelling again, but not at her. Peeta, my dad, stumbled out of the bakery with a huge red and purple spot on his eye."

"Oh no." Says Margaret.

"He had two loaves of bread that were burnt at the end, and he went over to the pig and fed him one. Of course, mom was watching him. Without looking, he tossed a loaf at her and it landed in front of her feet. He then tossed the rest of the other loaf to her too, instead of feeding it to the pig, then walked back into the bakery. His mother had beaten him, and he had taken it so Katniss wouldn't starve."

"That's amazing." A career says, who I didn't even know was listening. In fact, everyone was listening to me tell the story of the boy with the bread.

"And romantic!" Says the pretty girl, Paris.

"Is there more?" Isaak says.

"Actually, a little, I guess. The next day, at school, when Katniss was picking up Prim, she noticed Peeta looking at her in the distance. He soon turned away, blushing, and so did she. Then on the ground, she saw a single dandelion. The first dandelion of the year. It gave her hope to go back into the woods, and she did later that day, and that night, she and her family feasted on dandelion soup and bread. The first full meal since her dad was gone.

And it was all because of Peeta."

"That's the best story I've ever heard!" Ryder says. I smile as everyone comments on the story. Except Damion. All he asks is,

"Was that one of your dreams?" His face is full of concern and curiosity, and I only nod.


	6. The session,the song,and the living hell

Today is the private session with the games makers, aka, my natural enemies.

I know what I'm going to do, and it will knock that twelve right off the screen. And better yet, the Capitol will be broadcasting it, like they did the past couple days.

I hear gasps coming from the training center, then Damion comes out, smiling like an idiot.

"Don't smile so much. You'll catch flies." I say.

"Very funny, Flourence." He replies.

"What did you do?"

"You'll see. It's better than anyone else did, I'll tell you that."

"You just wait." I walk into the training center, and I see avoxes scrubbing something down that was painted all over the wall that I'm going to use. When they're finished, I start the private session by getting a bow and arrows. I count the lights-almost fifteen giant ones. I aim for one of the lightbulbs in it, shoot, and one light is down. Everyone is confused. Then I shoot the rest but one and walk over to the wall, picking up a bucket of oil along the way.

I paint something on there, I'm known for being great at it, and no one can see it because they're so far away. Then I shoot the last bulb out, and it is pitch black. The game makers an avoxes are all making strange noises and murmuring as if they're scared. I reach for the fire arrows beside me, and since I have a phtotographic memory, I know where to shoot them.

I aim for the first letter, and it brights up in fire. _M_. I finish the rest and shoot an arrow at the last item. And it says,

_May The Blaze Still Burn Bright._

With a mocking-jay beside it.

"No way." I say, watching Damion's prive session with the game makers. Everyone stares at the screen in awe. On the screen in front of me, is a realistic painting of Rue laying dead with the spear in her stomach and net over her body and flowers in her hair, a picture of the mocking-jay pin, and my parents at their victory tour.

"And Damion Talley has a...twelve!" Announces the woman on the screen. But we don't cheer. We just stare at the TV. Then Cecelia starts clapping dreamily and we join in.

"Good job Damion." Dad says.

"This is one of the greatest acts of rebellion since a game maker wore a watch with the pin on it." Mom adds. Then the screen changes to my private session. At the end, everyone's back in their stare.

"And Flourence Mellark also has a twelve!" The lady announces. Everyone cheers. Nobody but us got higher than a ten.

I go to into my room after dinner, and I decide right now is the time to cry. The Capitol will make my life hell in the arena, so I'll never win. I won't come back alive, no matter how much I try. So I cry, but I can't for long. The tears just won't come. I cry when I don't want to or don't need to, but I can't cry when I do want to or need to. Go figure.

I eventually fall asleep, and I have a haunting dream that I've had many time before.

"KATNISS!" Screams Rue from a distance. Katniss looks around frantically, then runs in the direction she heard the scream, yelling Rue's name. She comes to a clearing, where Rue lay in a net. A male tribute comes out to the clearing and throws a spear. Katniss screams, but she knows it's too late. The spear impales poor little Rue.

"NO!" Katniss screams, then she shoots an arrow at the boy. He falls on the ground, and a cannon blows. Katniss looks at Rue with wide eyes, making sure the cannon wasn't hers.

"Are there any more?" She says. Rue just shakes her head, sobbing in a puddle of blood. Katniss runs to Rue and puts her head in her lap.

"It's going to be okay, Rue. It will be okay." She ressures her, but she knows she'll die.

"Did you blow up the food?" Rue asks.

"Every last bit!"

"Can you sing for me?"

"Sing for you?" They're both crying now. Rue nods her head. "Okay." Katniss says.

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow  
>A bed of grass, a soft green pillow<br>Lay down your head, and close your eyes  
>And when they open, the sun will rise<p>

Here it's safe, and here it's warm  
>Here the daisies guard you from every harm<br>Here your dreams are sweet–  
>–and tomorrow brings them true<br>Here is the place where I love you.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away  
>A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray<br>Forget your woes and let your troubles lay  
>And when again it's morning, they'll wash away<p>

Here it's safe, and here it's warm  
>Here the daisies guard you from every harm<br>Here your dreams are sweet–  
>– and tomorrow brings them true<br>Here is the place where I love you.

Here is the place where I love you."

Rue lay dead, and Katniss is crying more than I thought possible. She gets up and picks some flowers then brings them back and lay them in Rue's hair. Then she watches as the crane pulls Rue up into the helicopter, and the dream fades.

I wake up with a start. Then I burst into tears and Damion runs into the room.

"I heard you talk in your sleep and rushed over. You were singing, I think." I look up at him, my eyes blurry with tears, and say,

"Thanks. I'm fine, though, just a bad dream."

"You don't look okay."

"Jee, thanks."

"That's not what I meant. Flourence, it's okay if you need to tell me anything." I look at him for a moment, then burst back into tears.

"D-Damion, you were wrong! The dreams won't go away! They keep coming and will never go away!" He rushes over to me and takes one of my hands in his.

"What do you mean?"

"R-Rue. The day in my mom's first Hunger Games, singing to Rue, who was dying. I've had that dreams a million times before! I can't make it stop. Please help me." I bury my head into his shoulder and cry. He hugs me and doesn't let go for a while. I know we missed breakfast, but why didn't anyone come to us? Then he let's go and I hate it. He cups my cheeks in his hands and says,

"If you need me, I'll be anywhere in this building. You just call my name, and I'll be here faster than you can say mocking-jay. Bye, Flourence." He kisses my forehead and then leaves the room. I sigh, take a shower, and get dressed in a purple pleaded jersey tank top, bright skinny jeans, the mocking-jay pin, and purple flats. I put my hair back in a side french braid and head outside. Cecelia catches up with me, her wig bouncing slightly.

"Flourence, dear! So nice to see you! Why did you miss breakfast? Pfft, that doesn't matter. Here's a butterscotch." She hads me an oval-shaped golden candy rapper. I open it and pluck the butterscotch in my mouth. It melts warmly.

"Now, today, we train you for the interviews! Come with me!" We walk into a room and she orders me in a gown and high heels that are a living hell. I have to walk with my back straight and a hurting smile plastered on my face, and those heels, ugh. Cecelia sighs, as if I were a nightmare waiting to happen.

"You'll do. Just drop the smile a bit. I'm getting too much teeth. And my, is your back straight? Loosen it a bit, please. Good. You'll do fine, Flourence." Then I am ordered to a room where my mom coaches me. Oh, great.

"Flourence, Haymitch has taught me ways to act in the interviews. I'd appreciate it if you do them perfectly, unlike I did. All I did was giggle and wave and twirl in my dress-"

"I know, I dreampt it." I mumble to myself so she can't hear.

"-and I know you can do better than that, of course. So let's get started!" Then we practice. I have to be witty, sexy, funny, mysterious, and cocky, too. We practice each one until I get it perfectly. At the end, Mom is smiling more hugely than I was when I was with Cecelia.

"Good job, Flourence! You're amazing!" She claps. I know that I'm doing great, _she's_ coaching me, after all. I go to my room, sighing happily that the long day is over. I don't really want to go to dinner, so I just order in myself. Roasted duck with a rasberry glaze, caramelized pears, and a mango and pomegraniite smoothie. Yum.

I can't believe it. The day after tomorrow I will be in the arena, fighting people to the death, probably dying in the blood bath, along with about five-to-ten other tributes. It's all too fast. I try to think of happy things-going home to Reuban, eating District 12's delicious lamb stew, specially delivered to my house, reading my favorite book over and over again in front of the cozy warming fire. I smile, but then bad thoughts shower over me.

District 12 collapsing, my father being hijacked, mom scratching Haymitch's beat up face, the woods up in smoke, my house set on fire, Reuban, mom, dad, Damion, John, and everyone else I know from District 12 being hanged. I pace around the room, munching on a caramelized pear, trying to think straight.

But I can't. No good thought come. Just terrifying ones. And I hate it. I hate it so much I drop my pear, pull my hair, and scratch the carpet floor until my hands are bloody. Then I collapse in a heap of my bloody self and fall asleep, crying my eyes out.

Gray light shows through the windows. I lay in my new and possibly last bed, my hand rapped in gauze, my hair in a tangled mess. An avox is at my aid, coming back and forth with medicine, fixing my wrists and trying to comb my hair. Then I see Dad by the side of my bed, looking at me intently and stopping every now and then to give the avox instructions.

"What happened?" I say. He smiles down at me, that good-hearty warm smile that he makes, and you can't help but smile too when he does.

"Flourence, when you didn't come down to dinner, we got, well, worried. We came down and saw you laying on the floor, all balled up, with your hands and hair bloody and tears streaming down your eyes. You were crying in your sleep. What happened?" He brushed a strand of my hair behind my ear.

"You were being hijacked. Mom was stratching Haymitch. Reuban, Damion, Mom, and you were being hung, District 12 was dying. Rue was dying. It wouldn't stop. It won't stop!" I cry and croak. I try to get up and I reach for my hair, but the avox and Dad hold me down. I try and try and try but they just won't let me.

"Stop! Let me die! Stop! I want to go home! I want Reuban! Get Damion! Get Damion!" I scream. Everyone rushes into the room and tries to keep me from screaming and kicking and crying, but I won't stop.

"God, she's going crazy before the Games have even started!" Says someone.

"Calm down Flourence! Dying before you enter the arena will only punish your family, too!" Says Cecelia. Everyone yells at me to stop, and it makes me do it even more. I kick and scream and moan and cry and punch.

"Leave me alone so I can die! I want to die! I want Reuban! Get Reuban! Get Reuban! I don't want to die without him! Get Reuban!"

"If you want to die when you're with Reuban, then win the Games and die with him!" Mom says.

"Reuban! I want Reuban! Reuban! Reuban Gale Mellark! I want him! I need him!"

"Flourence Primrose Mellark! Calm down!" Mom screams. I stop and stare at her in surprise. She said it with such anger and hate and hurt, so much that I've never heard before but in dreams.

"Please don't scream." I whisper. She smiles sadly and nods.

"Flourence, we'll just give you some space and then fix your hands and pick you up to take you to the remake center. Okay?" Italia says. I nod and everyone leaves but Damion. He looks down at me, sadness filled in his eyes.

"Flourence, I know this is probably the worst time to say it, but I love you. I've loved you ever since you saved me five years ago. But if you love me too, I just wanted to say, I think this will be very hard. Me living with you, crying and screaming all the time. And I'll take it. I know it will be the hardest thing I've ever done, but I don't care. I want you." He whispers. I try to acknowledge what he just said. He..._loves_ me? He'll put up with all of this crying and kicking and yelling for the rest of his life, just so he can be with me? Now, I don't think I know anyone like that except my parents and Finnick and Annie Odair.

"Damion, are you sure you you'd be ready to deal with all of this? All of my troubles? I'm not worth it-"

"Don't talk like that Flourence! You know I love you, not for who your parents are or how much money you have, but of how kind and funny and smart and generous you are. You're ten time as amazing as any of the other girls I know or will ever meet. Please, Flourence, I love you! Just please tell me yes or no, yes if you do too, no if you don't. I can take it." I look straight into his eyes, and see that he wasn't lying from one word. Everything he said was true. So I say,

"Yes."


End file.
